Paul picks up one of the guitars in the hall and starts to play “Twenty Flight Rock”—a song Eddie Cochran performed in the movie The Girl Can’t Help It—which he only learned a few days ago. It’s an immensely tricky song to play, even more so if you’re forced to play wrong-handed. But Paul’s only ambition in life is to be like Elvis, so he puts a lot of swagger into his impromptu performance. John stands nearby, his eyes narrowed, almost slanted. It’s the same look he had earlier while performing onstage, as though he were looking down on the crowd.

And now he’s looking down on me. Thinks I’m just a fat schoolboy.

*  *  *

Paul finishes the song, then starts to tell John about how he works out his own lyrics: “Like I’m writing an essay or doing a crossword puzzle.”

John nods, uninterested.

Paul goes over to a nearby piano. He sits and starts to play Jerry Lee Lewis’s hit song “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On.” Paul really gets into the music, even pounding the keys like Jerry Lee does.

Paul feels John’s arm on his shoulder. John leans over, contributing a deft right hand in the song’s upper octaves. He’s drunk, Paul realizes.

When they finish playing, John announces that it’s time for the pub. Paul’s heart thunders with excitement. The coolest kid in Liverpool has just invited me.

Bubbling beneath it is another feeling: apprehension. Every adult, including Paul’s dad, says about John, He’ll get you into trouble, son. John Lennon, with his intimidating glare and his sideburns and upturned collar. You saw him rather than met him.

Now that Paul has, he’s sticking around.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Won’t you join together with the band?

—“Join Together”

John doesn’t care that Paul is only fifteen. Musically, he’s as serious as John is about rock ’n’ roll. Paul’s already composing songs and knows how to play the piano.

And he plays the guitar perfectly—upside down.

Should I ask Paul to join the band? What if he tries to take over? John ponders these questions as he stands on the cobblestones outside the Cavern Club, in central Liverpool, where the Quarry Men played their first gig. The club, located under a fruit and vegetable warehouse, is a well-known jazz venue. “We never get auditions because of the jazz bands,” John says, but now jazz is on the way out, replaced by skiffle, a British version of jug-band music that the Quarry Men play.

But John’s true love is American rock ’n’ roll, and tonight he wants nothing more than to get onstage and bend the crowd’s ears back with its raw rhythms. Except the Cavern Club doesn’t allow that type of music. No place does.